If You Die
by GrapeSoda2
Summary: Wilson discovers how much he means to House. This is a twist of events of after season 4 and season 7. First House MD fanfic. Poem at end blongs to GrapSoda2.


"James, we need to talk."

He looks up, surprised at the seriousness of Cuddy's voice.

"About what?"

She sighs and he thinks he already knows.

"House."

Immediately a wall goes up in his mind.

"I have nothing to do with him anymore; you know that."

Cuddy looks at him incredulously. "You can't be serious."

He just looks at her, giving her his answer.

"James you've known him twenty years; no one's stuck around with him that long; not even me! He trust you, respects you!"

"I don't know why I didn't leave sooner, and if you have as much decency as I do, you'll leave him too. I'm glad I did; in fact, it's probably one of the best decisions I've made in my life."

Cuddy just looks at him. "You're blinded by your grief Wilson and you better cut it out because you're going to end up killing not only him, but yourself as well.

I know neither of you may admit it, but House needs you just as much as you need him."

He shakes his head and goes back to doing his paperwork. "Whatever you say Lisa."

[H] [H] [H] [H]

_One, two, three, four…._ He counts them in his palm. 10 innocent little white ovals would be all it'd take for it to be all over.

But what would that prove? That he was coward?

No, he couldn't do it; he'd rather die little by little each day for he knew he deserved the pain. Angrily, he shoved all the pills away and composed himself.

Not a moment too late, for cuddy came barging in, heels stomping in a unprofessional-like way.

"I've had enough of this," she practically shouted at him, "you need to suck up your ego and TALK TO WILSON; or I WILL fire you."

He looked at her, startled, and if he'd be his normal self he would have made a comment about her see through shirt.

But he wasn't his normal self.

"No", he said simply.

She glared daggers at him. "Why not?"

"Because he doesn't want to talk to me."

"Has he told you that?"

He shrugged. "With words, no."

"Then how do you know he's not over there in his office right now wishing you'd come over?"

"Because I know him. He's the kind that tackles that the raging bull head on. If he really wanted to talk to me, he'd be over here right now, not you."

Cuddy opened her mouth to speak again but he cut her off.

"Lisa, please, let it go for now. I'm tired; I just want to go home."

And she stopped, took a long look at his worn out features and nodded, letting it go.

"Alright. But please, talk to him."

He nodded, but he knew what they were both thinking;

_Everyone Lies._

[H] [H] [H] [H]

His hotel room was quiet when he arrived; not that he expected it NOT to be, but it was still depressing. If Amber hadn't died, he'd be married and living the dream life.

But he couldn't now.

_All because of House._

That thought brought anger boiling to the surface. He remembered what Cuddy had told him earlier that day. What nerve of her! What does she know? House took away his chances of a _real_ life and she wants them to just apologize and act like it never happened?

Suddenly his phone rang. Angrily he picked it up.

"Hello?"

"James?"

The blood drained from his face; _House._

"What", he spat.

"James; I can't do this anymore. I can't stand you hating me. I can't stand it being like this. Can you possibly forgive me?"

"For—_forgive you?"_

He was met by only silence.

"No Greg, I can't, not anymore. You need to learn to stop taking things for granted. _Oh wait_, you can't, can you? It just so happens to be in your _nature_; or so people like to call it."

It was silent for a while and Wilson thought, gratefully, that House had hung up until he spoke once more.

"For whatever it's worth Jimmy, I'm sorry."

And just like that the line went dead, but not before he heard a resounding gunshot.

He felt his knees go weak and the phone slipped from his hand and onto the floor where it shattered.

Just like his heart shattered.

_ Oh God House, _he thought,_ what have I done?_

[H] [H] [H] [H]

He flew in his car to House's and ran up the stairs.

_220A, 220B, 221A…. 221B._

He twisted the door knob; locked. He banged on the door.

"House!"

No answer.

He fumbled with the key, managed to get it in the lock.

He threw it open, violently searching the area.

"Greg!" he screamed.

By the piano, on the ground, he lay in a pool of blood, gun by his side.

Wilson ran over, fell to his knees and grasped his shoulders.

"House!"

He had to be dead, he thought, looking at the bullet hole to his chest; no one can survive that much pain, that much blood loss.

It scared him out of his wits when House responded.

"J-immy?"

Wilson just stared. "Greg, you idiot. Why?"

"Couldn't stand…you hating…me. Told…myself…to cowardly…for suicide. When…you said…that over…the…phone…turns…out I…am not."

Wilson realized what he had done with those few choice words and a tear slide down his face. "Oh God Greg; I'm sorry, so damn sorry. I didn't mean it. I really didn't. I couldn't stand Amber being gone; I just needed someone to blame I guess."

He lifted House into his arms.

Oh God. I can't survive without you House. Amber's one thing; you…"

"You're…going to…have to." His breathing was shallow and labored.

"No…No House. Not now; not like this."

He struggled to inhale.

Wilson had to tell him, he had to. "I love you Greg." he whispers, "You're my best friend."

House tries to smile. "You're…not…gay."

Wilson laughs sadly. "No, neither are you, but that doesn't change my feelings."

They sit there in silence for a while. Wilson tries to imagine how it was for House in the minutes leading up to their phone call; he probably played the piano first to calm himself, in fact, that's all he probably did.

House's slow breathing pulls him out of his retrieve. Wilson looks at him, in the eyes, and he understands that he is dying but holding on for his sake.

"House", he whispers, tears streaming down his face.

"Let go."

And he does; his last look of Wilson's tormented and guilty face.

"I love you too Jimmy."

And he was gone.

_ If you die, I'm alone._

Every now and again,

I feel you holding my hand;

The only thing is,

I wish it were his.

I know you're helping me, still,

Can't you see I can't get over that hill?

He committed suicide;

I wish I could die.

Please help me;

Oh my, oh my.

Oh why, oh why

Did he die?

Will I die along die too;

Please be there to help me through.

He committed suicide;

I wish I could die.

Please help me;

Oh my, oh my.

Oh why, oh why

Did he die?

Though only now he's gone,

I've been alone all along.

Please help me;

Oh my, oh my.

He committed suicide,

I still wish I could die.


End file.
